


Typical Evening Escapades

by i_am_your_khaleesi



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 15:07:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_your_khaleesi/pseuds/i_am_your_khaleesi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He fucks you like he's in love with you and you wish that were enough. / In which Dave is a selfish bastard, and John falls for it every time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Typical Evening Escapades

**Author's Note:**

> had some ideas revolving around different ways their relationship could go and thought this one might be interesting-- Dave is using John, his best friend who also happens to be crazy about him, as an outlet for his failing relationship. this is nothing special, just posting to try and get some feedback maybe.

Maybe you're trying too hard. That might be the problem. You stare at your phone, long enough for it to go dim until you tap the screen back to life. Dave sent a message not even two minutes ago, asking if you're free. You responded embarrassingly fast, an eager _'of course man! you know i'm always free for you. what do you have in mind??_ ' You groan, letting the screen go black as you lock it and smack it to your forehead; that was way too clingy, no matter how hard you tried to hide it. Which wasn't hard at all to begin with.

You lean on one hand, taking in your surroundings. Not much to see-- you're curled up in your car, loitering in the parking lot of your shitty apartment complex. It's almost eleven at night, and the streetlights are busted, so you can barely see past the hood of your car. This setting itself was surely enough evidence to prove just how pathetic you really are. You've been sitting here for a good half hour already, debating whether or not you should call Dave and go see him. By a stroke of luck, he sought you out first, and saved you some points in the creeper department. Speaking of Dave-- your phone lights up in your hand and you come to attention quickly.

_'you ain't gotta ask do you- doors unlocked come on by bring dinner if you wanna'_

Well, that pretty much spoke for itself. Your chest feels tight all of a sudden, and you're cramming the keys into the ignition before you even think to reply. Your brain is on auto-pilot as you make your way to Dave's; you've driven this path hundreds of times, day or night. It's a second home to you, aside from your dad's house, but that's not really something to think about when you're about to get laid. Instead, you try your damndest to think about said between-the-sheets business and not your impending self-loathing.

You swing into Dave's even shittier apartment complex, throwing the car into park. A quick once-over before you head upstairs-- try to tame your shock of hair, adjust your glasses, make sure there's nothing in your teeth. You pop a stick of gum in your mouth for good measure, chewing absently as you get out and head up. You trudge upstairs and knock out a little rhythm on the door, standing there stupidly for a good ten seconds before you remember that it's unlocked. You spit out your gum and show yourself inside, kicking off your shoes as the door clicks shut behind you.

"Dave?" your voice sounds strange as it echoes through the small space; he's obviously not in the living room or the kitchenette, since you're able to see clearly into both from your spot at the entrance. Bedroom, then.

"Yo," there's your response, to your left and slightly muffled.

You push the door open a little, lingering in the entryway as you watch him. Dave is sprawled atop his bed, which takes up most of the space; the rest is littered with a nightmarish conglomeration of cables, wires, and dirty clothes. One tan leg is hanging halfway off the bed, his face pressed into the pillow. Now you notice that he's only wearing his boxer-briefs and a stretched tank-top. His backpack hasn't moved from it's spot on top of the desk since yesterday. He must have skipped class.

"How're you doing, man?" you keep your voice low, whipping your own shirt off as you carefully make your way to the bed. "

Crappy," he grumbles as you flop down beside him, "Terezi's giving me shit again."

Of course it's her. You force yourself not to scowl; instead you wind a skinny arm around his midsection and bury your face between his shoulder blades. He's warm, and smells sharply of cologne. He could still use a shower.

"Wanna talk about it?" you prompt, praying that he doesn't. You know he won't. You both know what he really wants.

"Nah. Ain't really a big deal," Dave wiggles a bit, and you give him room to turn and face you. You let out a breathy laugh, for no real reason other than seeing his face all pouty and disgruntled, and he gives you a funny look, "You smell like gum."

"Minty fresh," you grin, "Gotta keep these gopher teeth nice and clean!"

Dave snorts, and looks like he might speak for a split second; his eyes soften, and he leans closer to you instead. You meet him halfway, reveling in how he practically purrs when your lips touch. His hand runs along your arm, cool compared to the rest of him, and twines in your hair as you coax his tongue into your mouth. The angle you're at becomes more uncomfortable the more heated the kiss gets, and he picks up on this quickly-- with a little grunt, he sits up, rolling you onto your back and snatching your glasses.

"Hey--"

"Mine are off. Yours get gone, too," his accent is ridiculous and charming, and you're in no place to argue. It doesn't end up being much of an issue anyway; once your specs are safely beneath the bed, he leans back down and takes your bottom lip between his teeth.

You moan softly, mind reeling as you try to keep up with this new pace; he moves his lower body up farther, fitting between your legs, leaning over you. The kiss is rough and lacking any sort of technique, while his hands run along your sides slowly. You try your best to reciprocate to his lashing tongue, hands braced against his shoulders, massaging gently. He bites your lip a little harder than you anticipated, and when you squeak he ruts against you hard.

"Dave," you sigh as his tongue momentarily exits your mouth. He pays you no mind, rocking against you again as he licks along your palate. This time he doesn't stop-- his thrusts are slow and deliberate, the layers of cloth between you making it almost painful. It's hard for you to breathe, even through your nose, and so you turn your head away and take a gasping breath as he ruts against you even harder.

"Fuck," you try to catch your breath, "Fuck, Dave, at least..."

It's embarrassing how hard you are already from just this much petty man-handling, but you value your sanity over your dignity, and if you don't get your pants off now you're going to lose it. You rake your nails along his shoulders, pawing until you've yanked his tank top over his head and tossed it aside. You dig your nails in again, and he arches into you as you scrape down his back. You let your hands drop to your hips, struggling to shuck off your jeans. Dave doesn't seem too keen on helping you, instead he props himself up by his elbows on either side of your head and works savagely at your neck. After a significant tussle with your trousers, you shake your jeans and boxers off your ankles and wrap your legs around the blond's waist.

"God," Dave murmurs against your neck, and you nearly sob as your cock rubs against his abdomen, heavy and hot. His tongue laps at the marks he's made, and you feel him move one hand down to slide up your thigh, hooking behind your knee and pushing you up further. Again, he thrusts forward, and you wind your arms around his neck to bring him closer; you take a shuddering breath as he massages your inner thigh, lifting his head from the crook of your neck to level you with a pretty impressive set of puppy-dog-eyes.

"John?" Oh, God, he looks so hurt. You're floundering  now, searching his crimson eyes for an answer-- why? What's wrong, what did you do wrong?

"Yeah, man? What--"

He leans forward suddenly, kissing you again, but it's not as rough as before. His tongue swathes along your lower lip, coaxing them both apart. The hand on your thigh moves up, raking hair from your face and stroking your temple. Your hips are still fitted together, but he's barely moving against you now, and for some reason that's even more of a tease. He makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, tilts his head to deepen the kiss, and you can practically hear your heart breaking. You hate it when he does this. When he makes it feel like he cares; it feels like he loves you, and you know he does, but not the way you want him to. He's a liar and he's using you and you love it you love it you love him so much--

"Dave, please," you have to mumble into the kiss, making it sloppy, because he's not stopping just because you want to get a word in, "C'mon."

Your feet find purchase on the bed and you rock your hips up into him. That breaks his lovey-dovey zen; that little whine turns into a growl, and he ruts back a little harder, the fingers stroking your face carding through your hair. He's rubbing your sides again, blunt nails digging into your hipbones, making you twitch.

"C'mon, what? What d'you want? Ain't gonna get anywhere if you're being impatient," You know that's a lie-- he wants it, too, and him being talktative is a sure sign.

You don't respond with anything coherent, you just whine stupidly when he rears back and hooks both his hands under your knees, lifting you up. Your arms fall from around his neck and brace against the bed; He leans over and licks a broad stripe along your inner thigh, making you yelp. His grip is almost bruising, and you try your best not to squirm as he plants sloppy kisses on your pale skin, biting down where your leg meets your hip. You keen and buck up, forcing him to set you back down.

"Turn over," he says, but he's already flipping you anyway. You shift and turn onto your stomach-- impatient, Dave lifts your hips with an abrupt jerk, spreading your knees a little wider and forcing you to stay propped up on your elbows.

You're panting now, feeling vulnerable and harder than you've ever been. An appreciative little hum is heard from behind you, and before you can scoff at him, he's dipping down to bite you right on your ass.

"Ack, Dave!" you jolt and nearly giggle, but then you're choking when his tongue finds your entrance. You cry out, tensing, clawing at the sheets as he pushes his tongue inside you.

You feel the blush creeping from the tips of your ears all the way to your chest, your length aching between your legs. You're whining into the pillow, keeping your attention focused on his ministrations; he's working you messily, the noises wet and lewd. You can feel his spit running down your thigh, cooling quickly on your feverish skin. It takes you a minute to realize you're trembling, and even though you don't want him to stop, you have to make him because you're already close.

"Stop, stop, stop-- Gonna cum, Dave, quit--" The fucking brat hears your begging loud and clear, and takes it upon himself to do just the opposite. He grips your hips, digging his nails in just the way you like it, and starts  _fucking you on his tongue_ , making you nearly scream. When you try to wiggle your legs closed, he manages to angle his elbows and keep them spread.

"Haah," you gasp as he finally pulls out of you, peppering your lower back with quick little kisses. Your cock is leaking and you're still half-convulsing, the empty feeling both a blessing and a curse. You turn your head, ridiculous tears obscuring your vision, from the over-stimulation. He's rifling hurriedly through the mess on the bedside table. Your chest tightens and you nearly sigh with relief when he finds the lube, fumbling with it for a split second before he pops off the cap and brings it back around behind you.

"Nonono," you gasp as you feel his fingers pressing against you, "Takes too long. Come on, Dave, don't."

You hear him snort. He leans over you, kissing your neck, nipping at your ear, "Don't bullshit me. You like it better when I don't 'cause it hurts."

That wasn't a lie. Instead of retorting, you whine helplessly, rolling your hips to try and press back against him. Dave hums and rocks with you; you can feel his hand moving. He's touching himself. Oh, fuck, that's too much.

"Fine, yeah, I do," you admit, breathless, "You know I do. You-- fuck. Fuck..."

"That all you can say?" you're gonna fucking end him.

"Dave!!"

He laughs at you, the dickhole, and lets his slick hand wind around to grip your length, "I gotcha."

Finally-- fucking finally-- he pumps you slowly and presses the tip against your entrance, grunting quietly as he rolls his hips forward. Your back arches and you wail into the pillow, trying to buck into his hand and move back against him at the same time. The only warning you get is a  quiet 'hold on, man', and sharp gasp, and then he's splitting you in half.

This is what you've wanted. Your muscles burn, your whole body tensing and shuddering as he slides into you. It's too much all at once, and you think you might scream again, but you choke on those stupid, ugly tears and simply croak out his name instead. Dave isn't thrusting so much as he is just rolling with you, pressing you forward into the slow fuck of his hand, sliding not even an inch or two out of you before rocking back inside. Your lungs are aching, and you're getting an awful cramp in between your shoulders blades, your body going into shock. It's all too much and you can't handle it, he needs to stop stop stop--

"Harder," it takes you a moment to realize it's your voice you're hearing, thin and tense, "Fuck me harder."

From above you, he growls, his body leaning over to mold against yours. Dave takes one hand away from your hip, gripping your hair and pulling you upright. You gasp, legs spread wide on either side of his thighs, back pressed flush against his chest. He kisses your shoulder, licks the spot, purrs near your ear.

"Better watch it."

You don't even know how to respond to that, but it doesn't matter, because he shuts you up fast; Dave sinks his teeth into your skin and thrusts up roughly. Your hands fly out to catch yourself on the headboard, and your yelp of surprise turns into a scream as he picks up the pace, driving into you hard. One hand is still in your hair, tilting your head back and exposing your throat. He claws along your hip, your thigh, down your back, and all you can do is howl and moan while he fucks you. You can hear him too-- between your cries, when you remember to breathe-- murmuring into the open air, gasping and moaning with you.

"So good," he hums, "John-- goddammit, shit, fuck. No, don't stop. Speak up, keep screamin', baby."

For a split second, he pauses in his rampant thrusting, and you feel him shift. He angles his hips down a little more, hisses, then pounds into you again--

_Oh_.

Your body siezes and you keen, raking your nails along the headboard, hitting your head against the wall and sobbing. You're drooling just a little, and you feel your mouth forming words now, past the haze in your head.

"Right there right there right there-- harder, Dave," you're screaming now, struggling to match his frantic pace. Behind you, he's panting wildly, a quiet little cry escaping him. His arm winds around your middle and he pulls you back against him, bouncing you in his lap.

"Close," he whines, "I'm gonna cum, want you to-- you first, John, come on--"

Just when you think he's doing all he can, the hand splayed over your stomach slides down and grips your cock again, stroking you roughly. There's a moment where your heart stops, the fluttering in your chest ceases and it's just a violent wave of  _feeling_ slamming through you. You shudder and choke, your throat working around a scream as you throw your head back. Dave is still going even as you tighten around him, but you feel his cum searing your insides and hear him gasp your name. You're both still for several moments until Dave finds his strength again; he rocks you both over onto the bed, curling around you, still inside.

You hum wordlessly, a sweet ache settling into your muscles. You're both spent, and you have a feeling that he's already fast asleep. There's a faint buzzing in the air, your body pulsing with a heavy heartbeat and aftershocks. You wonder if he's going to pull out anytime soon.

"Dave--"

"Shuddup," he croaks, nudging the back of your head with his nose.

"Don't I need to leave, man? Can't really do that with your dick still in my ass," you both laugh breathlessly, and you're not sure if the silence that follows is tense or not.

"Nah."

Your heart skips a beat, making you wince, "Nah, what?"

"I mean you're stayin' here," he grumbles, "Now take a pill."

You're about to at least attempt to argue, but Dave decides it's about time he pulls out, and he's not exactly gentle about it. You flinch and harrumph, turning gingerly to face him. His eyes are open and zero'd in on you, and you start gnawing at your bottom lip.

"So."

"So?"

Oh, god, this is just as weird for him, you can tell. He's acting sweet and heartsick and everything you wish he secretly is but he's just not and it makes your chest ache, "Night, I guess?"

"Yeah. Night, John."

He tucks his chin over the top of your head and rests his arm on your midsection, and it feels nice and so you sleep. You dream of sand in awkward places and tan lines and cherry popsicles.

 

**Author's Note:**

> maybe I'll continue it, elaborate more on the 'before and after' who knows.


End file.
